Episode 4 – The Beginning of the Game
The bodyguard rushed to Neelm, his voice trembling with urgency:
"Madam, the reporters outside are shouting non-stop. They claim Miss Elira was bullied and they're demanding to see her. The hospital is in chaos. You must address them quickly, otherwise they'll insist Miss Elira faces the cameras."
Neelm's face drained of all color. She began biting her nails in panic, her lips quivering.
"Why… why are they making such a big issue out of this?" she muttered nervously.
Meanwhile, Elira—who had been silently listening from her bed—suddenly yanked the drip from her arm. Slowly, she rose to her feet. For the first time, that chilling smile curved her lips.
"I'll handle this myself…" she said, her voice calm but ice-cold.
Neelm's heart pounded in fear. She screamed:
"No! She will not face the media!"
Doctors and bodyguards exchanged uneasy glances. But Elira's smile only grew darker.
"Why are you so afraid, Mama? I'm only going to speak the truth…"
---
Media Hall
The hospital lobby was crowded with reporters, their cameras flashing wildly. But as Elira walked forward in her patient gown, each slow step silenced the entire hall.
She stopped before them, bowed her head slightly, and gave a soft, innocent smile. Her gentle voice carried through the room:
"Thank you, everyone, for your concern. I'm much better now. My father has always loved me deeply. That's why he remarried—so I could feel the love of a mother."
Gasps spread across the crowd, but Elira continued, her tone unwavering:
"My stepmother came from a very poor background. Her first husband was cruel—he abused her and even tried to sell her daughter. My father saved her from that life and gave her protection. Today, whatever family I have, I will cherish and protect them all. I am proud of my father… and grateful to my mother."
The room erupted into murmurs.
"Did she just defend her stepmother?"
"Is this really how she feels?"
Neelm's forced smile faltered as her insides twisted in rage.
Albert—Elira's father—stood silently nearby. His lips curved into a polite smile for the cameras, but his eyes still burned with the old hatred he carried for the daughter he blamed for his first wife's death.
---
Her Past
From the moment she was born, Elira's fragile health kept her in and out of the hospital. While other children played in gardens, her childhood was spent under the watchful eyes of doctors.
When she turned six, her father married Neelm. From that day, Elira was no longer just the weak child of the household—she became the unwanted shadow in her own home.
Now, at fifteen, something had changed. The quiet, broken girl was gone. What remained was someone else… someone far more dangerous.
---
At Home
When the family returned to the mansion, the servants lined up in silence. They expected Elira to shrink away as usual, to disappear into the shadows like she always did.
But instead, Elira suddenly ran toward her father, wrapping her thin arms around him. Her voice trembled with sweet innocence:
"Papa!"
Albert froze. For years, he had never heard that word from her. His lips quivered as he hesitantly embraced her back.
"My daughter…" he whispered softly.
The servants gasped in shock. They had never seen such a sight before.
For the first time, Albert's heart softened. Yet confusion and guilt clouded his eyes.
From behind, Neelm clenched her teeth in fury, her nails digging into her palms.
Elira turned her head slightly, meeting Neelm's gaze—her lips curling into that same twisted, eerie smile.
"Now… the game truly begins."
---
Servants' Whisper
Later, in the kitchen, the servants whispered among themselves while preparing dinner.
"Did you see her today? She smiled in front of the master…" one maid muttered.
"Not just that—she hugged him! I thought she wasn't even allowed to stand near him," another gasped.
"But… did you see her eyes? There was something strange, something different about her," the cook whispered, her hands trembling as she stirred the soup.
They exchanged uneasy glances. Something about Elira had changed—and it wasn't just her smile.
---
Dinner Table
That evening, the long dining table gleamed under the golden chandelier. Albert sat at the head of the table, Neelm to his right, and her children seated neatly beside her.
For years, Elira had never been invited to this table. She always ate alone in the kitchen, picking at whatever leftovers remained after the family was done.
But tonight, as the dishes were served, a soft sound of footsteps echoed. Elira walked in, her face calm, her presence unsettling.
The room froze.
"Elira?" Albert's voice was uncertain.
Without hesitation, she pulled out a chair and sat at the table. She looked around at the stunned faces and smiled sweetly.
"May I join my family tonight?" she asked innocently, though her tone carried an edge only Neelm could hear.
The servants nearly dropped the plates in shock. Neelm's hand clenched around her fork, her knuckles turning white.
Albert hesitated for a long moment, then gave a small nod. "Sit."
The entire household was stunned.
Elira gracefully picked up her spoon and began eating slowly, as if she had been sitting there all her life.
But her mind whispered in silence:
"No more scraps. No more shadows. From this table, from this house… I'll take everything back."
Across the table, Neelm's fury boiled. Elira caught her glare, and that same eerie smile spread across her lips again—mocking, daring.
A maid rushed forward nervously, whispering:
"Miss, the doctor said you shouldn't be eating this—"
Elira interrupted with a sweet laugh.
"Oh, I forgot. But when I look at Papa, I suddenly feel stronger. As if all the distance I kept from him until now was just… a mistake. My silence gave others the chance to take advantage."
Her words carried weight, making Neelm stiffen. Elira twirled spaghetti around her fork, then added casually:
"Life is about responsibility. From now on, I'll correct my past mistakes. I won't give Papa any reason to feel ashamed of me. I'll take care of my sweet step-sister too… just like she has always taken care of me."
Her eyes flickered toward Neelm, sharp and mocking.
"Also, Mama," Elira continued with innocent firmness, "shouldn't you hire a proper governess for your son? What will people say—that a wealthy assemblyman's son is left to be raised by his older sister? Papa earns so much… surely he can afford help. Don't you think I'm right, Papa?"
Albert stared at her, surprised by her newfound confidence. For a moment, he almost felt proud. If only she had been like this from the start, he thought bitterly, perhaps everything could have been different.
Neelm's nails dug into her palms beneath the tablecloth.
---
The Room Demand
As dinner ended, Albert rose to leave. But Elira's gentle voice stopped him.
"Papa… there's one more thing."
He turned back, uneasy. "What is it?"
Elira's smile was calm, almost too calm.
"I don't want to sleep in the kitchen anymore."
A tray clattered to the floor. Servants froze, exchanging horrified looks.
Elira tilted her head sweetly.
"Since the day I was born, I've had no room of my own. I've slept beside the servants, near the stove. But now… I want a real room. A proper room, just like the rest of the family."
The words struck the hall like thunder.
Neelm's face turned red with rage. She slammed her hand on the table.
"How dare you—"
But Elira cut her off, her innocent eyes locked onto Albert.
"Papa, don't you think… it's about time your daughter has a space to call her own?"
Albert's chest tightened. His eyes softened with guilt he couldn't hide. For the first time in years, he truly looked at her.
Elira's lips curved into a soft smile, hiding the storm within.
This house buried me in shadows. Now, it will become my stage.